


your faith used to be strong

by saunatonttu



Category: Bleach
Genre: (on ryuuken's part), Betrayal, Canon Divergent, Friendship, Gen, Present Tense, Suspense, aka things get weird as he finds out about Yhwach's existence, maaaybe tiiiiny bit of hints of ishihime?, neglicence, spoilers for the last arc maybe, the missing 17 months from Uryuu's perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5273138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes things a little time to settle into the new rhythm, new order of things – after all, there is no Kurosaki Ichigo to protect the city and his friends like he has done before.</p><p> </p><p>The blank 17 months from Ishida Uryuu's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your faith used to be strong

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW my first Bleach fic turned out to be kinda... yeah. BUT HONESTLY I'm impatiently waiting to get Uryuu's reasoning for his actions and affiliation because it goes far beyond simple revenge... or so I'm desperately hoping because I don't want him to be cast into that empty role of an avenger.
> 
> But anyways. 
> 
> I think Hollow/Quincy/Shinigami should start with a lower case letter, but blergh I'm too lazy to edit the upper cases off right now.

_do you feel cold and lost in desperation?_

_*_

It begins in the void that most call ‘the seventeen months of powerless Kurosaki Ichigo’ – during the time he’s most vulnerable even if he loathes to admit it.

And _he_ is Ishida Uryuu.

It takes things a little time to settle into the new rhythm, new order of things – after all, there is no Kurosaki Ichigo to protect the city and his friends like he has done before.

But there is Ishida Uryuu and his Quincy powers – as well as Sado-kun and Inoue-san with their own peculiar abilities.

The post-Aizen reality is different than the one before all the Shinigami and Seireitei madness, but as the clichéd saying goes… life goes on.

*

Getting back on track with school is exhausting, more so than Uryuu had dared to expect, but he manages to pull his grades back where they should be – the only thing that had made them go low in the first place was the number of absences he took.

It is easy to lose himself in his studies, for the textbooks to take priority over most everything else. _Most_ everything else.

There are still the occasional appearances from Hollows. A few times a week, they come to disturb the peace they have all worked so hard to achieve, but they never stay for more than few hours at most; they either get slaughtered by the lonesome Quincy or purified by the Shinigami assigned to watch over the town. Uryuu meets him on a few occasions -- that guy whose name even he has a hard time remembering.

He tries to be selective when it comes to killing Hollows. He can’t go breaking the balance too badly now, regardless of how made-up the concept of the balance between the two worlds is. (According to all calculations, the thin line of balance should have tilted a long time ago, after all.)

But it’s hard to be selective when he knows there are people that will face consequences of his decisions.

*

It’s about two months after the end of Kurosaki’s career as a substitute Shinigami when Urahara-san rings Uryuu up. By that time, the routine has settled into what it had been before his involvement with Kurosaki and his friends.

School. Hollows. Sewing club. Weekends spent on both training and studying. Avoiding his father as much as possible. The latter is not hard to accomplish: Ryuuken spends long days at the hospital and is never at home by the time Uryuu either leaves or comes back home.

It’s been that way for a long time – probably since before mother’s death, as well.

So Urahara-san’s call for him is a break from that routine, and Uryuu finds himself in the surprisingly homey shop one afternoon after the sewing club’s activities had finished. There’s a competition coming up – and this time he won’t leave his senpai disappointed by suddenly disappearing.

There’s dust that hasn’t settled yet in the corners that he can see, but the sun that shines in illuminates the shop slowly, the light casting tall shadows in its wake. The particles of dust almost glimmer.

“Ah, sorry to make you wait, Ishida-san.” The falsely cheerful intonation of Urahara-san is not unexpected enough to startle him, but he does need a moment to relax and adjust his sitting position again before he can manage to look at Urahara.

“What is it you called me here for?” he asks, straight to the point. His fingers fiddle with the strap of his messenger bag, the small dents from holding a needle still imprinted on the pads of the fingertips. The aches are nothing unusual, nothing worse than the aches from the archery he does as a side-hobby.

The shop assistant and the kids are absent, off doing whatever it was that Urahara has them doing off duty. Uryuu lets go of that thought as soon as Urahara waves a cell phone at his direction.

“There’s no need to be so hasty, Ishida-kun,” the shopkeeper hums, an out-of-place grin plastered over his lips. It grates on Uryuu’s nerves with its fakeness. “Maybe I merely wished for a small talk with the one and only Quincy we have willingly help us—“

“I’m leaving,” Uryuu deadpans, standing up from his knees and pulling the bag over his shoulders, and Urahara sighs, the lilting tone cut off from his voice.

“You are no fun, indeed,” Urahara says, gestures towards the kotatsu. “It’s not anything too time-consuming, but if you would sit down again, Ishida-san.”

And so he does, with a slight bending of his knees, eyes narrow and expectant behind the reflected gleam of his glasses. Urahara sighs, adjusts his hat as though Uryuu has put him in an awkward position.

“Here you go.” Urahara hands the phone to Uryuu. It’s not a particularly new model, but it’s still something Uryuu has never touched in his entire life as his allowance is strictly restricted to groceries and sewing equipment. Even if it’s an older model, it still has a touch screen. Camera lens, too.

Certainly looks like a normal phone, but…

“For the times when we need to call upon your services, you see,” Urahara explains airily as he takes out his fan and waves it flamboyantly before his face, a rather carefree expression tilting his mouth up. The wrinkles that have started to form are as good as gone when he smiles that way, Uryuu notes.

Ah. A middle-age crisis… but it was best to not say _that_ out loud.

“Hollows, huh,” Uryuu looks through the phone. It doesn’t seem like he needs to invest in getting a number of his own or even a SIM card. “Makes sense to regulate my movements.”

“Glad we have reached an understanding,” Urahara sing-songs, grin wide on his perpetually tired face. “That’s all. I don’t need to give you any advice on how to work with that thing, do I? Youth these days are rather savvy with technology.”

Uryuu fights the urge to roll his eyes, and conquers it as he stands up to give a respectful bow to the man. “Yes. Thank you for your… thoughtfulness, Urahara-san. I’ll be going now, then.”

He doesn’t look back as he exits the shop. He can breathe again, and he focuses on that as well as the lingering rays of dying sunlight.

*

The phone rings the very next night, startling Uryuu awake from his slumber and the grips of a grim dream that has his heart pounding even minutes after rising to his feet from the hard mattress. He retrieves the phone, presses a key to silence it. He doesn’t need the coordinates to find the Hollow. Not when his senses are keener than whatever echo-locators Soul Society’s gadgets have.

He grabs his Quincy attire, changes into it fast. His heart continues to pound.

He doesn’t know why, nor does he care much for the reason right now. He slips out from the window, even though it’s on the third floor of the apartment building he and his father inhabit. His heels hit the street, soft as his knees quake a little beneath his weight.

He kills the Hollow with one arrow, as is to be expected. Not a speck of it remains behind, and so Uryuu quietly returns to where his _home_ supposedly is.

He stops by the streetlamp under his window, looks up.

It’s not a home with Ryuuken alone.

But it’s not like Uryuu has anywhere else to go either. So he sucks his breath in and digs up the key from within the Quincy robes as he climbs up to the third floor.

The door opens silently – and more silence welcomes Uryuu back to its cold embrace.

*

_blank is the knowledge that you have_

_void of all that is yet to come_

*

The third and fourth month since Kurosaki’s final battle go by. Summer vacation does, too. No one separates for the summer, surprisingly. Arisawa and other Kurosaki’s friends flock around him, almost afraid to let go of him.

Inoue-san, as well.

Uryuu’s a part of the student council, now. Even summer vacation does not ease his workload much.

The sewing club made it into the prefectural finals, as well, so it’s a rather busy end of July for him and Inoue-san.

Surprisingly, Kurosaki and others come to cheer the club on. Geesh. It’s obvious they’re mostly doing it for Inoue-san, so why pretend otherwise? That’s what he thinks, but the pride tingling his chest as he shows off his skills in front of both the judges and his friends says otherwise.

It matters – even someone like Asano, whom Uryuu barely knows.

“Hey, is that a smile on your face, Ishida?” Kurosaki teases him when they meet up after the first round. “Don’t get cocky now, idiot. There’s more to do, right?”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Uryuu returns, his tone light and borderline happy even as he is thinking about the next round already. That’s how he misses the way Asano starts the huge group hug – it’s an assault, to be honest – that Uryuu gets caught up in inadvertently.

“Hey—“ he yelps, but there is no resisting the force that is friendship.

Ugh. _These morons._

*

It begins as a bad feeling somewhere between his temples and in the back of his head. There is no particular reason for it – Urahara’s cell phone hasn’t rang often enough to warrant concern, Ryuuken is as distant as he has always been, and Kurosaki’s content with his normal life as far as outward appearances say.

Everything is normal, but Uryuu’s bones quiver with an unsettling feeling that he can’t give a name to. It’s nothing as palpable as fear, nothing as mild as simple concern.

It’s September, about six months since—

*

He feels like he’s being watched. He blames it on the stress that comes from the growing workload from the student council as well as the continued presidency of the sewing club. Of course people watch him – he’s nothing if not a respected figure in the hierarchy of his class.

It’s easy enough to fool himself while he’s at school, at least.

*

It continues for a while, that feeling of never being completely at ease.

Inoue-san has noticed it, he thinks. She hasn’t said anything, though, and he wonders why – an irrational part of him answers _it’s because you’re not as important as Kurosaki to her._

But it’s nothing but an irrational thought, and he kills those thoughts in the weekends when he gets the chance to practice his archery in the same place he practiced before the mission to save Kuchiki Rukia.

He practices with his own words in his mind. _I want to become a strong Quincy that can protect lots of people._

But has he truly protected anyone?

Has his participation _truly_ mattered in the grand scheme of things?

Sometimes, even he doubts himself.

He shoots another arrow, through an old and rotting oak tree five hundred meters away from him. He may not be muscle-brained like Kurosaki and Sado-kun, but he too finds relief in a good work-out.

*

Sometimes he sees dreams.

That itself isn’t surprising – but the contents of them are.

It’s a sense of familiarity and family that chokes him in his subconscious; it’s like the dread he used to feel around Ryuuken, only more vicious in strength.

And then there’s that man. He looks like he come straight from a Westerner cowboy movie with his shabby, flowy hair and the dark cloak that flutters around him. His lips are always parted, moving to the rhythm of the words that Uryuu can never quite hear. The thick mustache over his upper lip shadow the mouthed words.

But that is not the sinister part.

The man’s eyes shine, the light sharp and twisted by Uryuu’s own perception.

_Come, Uryuu._

The voice echoes through Uryuu’s head, between his heartbeats and over the flood of adrenaline that strangles his veins.

_I am waiting._

*

Nine months since the forceful departure of Kurosaki Ichigo’s powers, and Uryuu remembers the old riddle his grandfather once enunciated to him with a clear, yet distant, voice.

9 centuries, 9 decades, 9 years.

Uryuu remembers the nines, but what else is there--?

He knows not.

It bothers him to the point of distraction, but even so—

“Ishida-kun! What is the answer to this equation?”

“x2-13.”

“That is correct.”

…even so, if he cannot name the danger that he feels hovering in his very blood, there is nothing to be done about it.

Adjusting his glasses, Uryuu resumes to take notes of the incredibly dull math class while his mind reels, gears shifting regardless of his attempts at stopping.

He glances at Kurosaki. The idiot’s looking out of the window with a pitifully forlorn expression. _Thinking about Kuchiki-san, is he…?_

Tsk. Getting worried about Kurosaki, is he? Now who’s the _real_ fool here…

*

_there is no bigger tragedy than ignorance_

*

Occasionally Urahara’s phone beeps in Uryuu’s pocket during class, usually about seven minutes after Uryuu has taken notice of the Hollow’s spiritual power. He would be smug if it wasn’t so distracting – he does want to protect people, just like he had told his grandfather, his sensei.

He is quick to react to the buzzing in his pants’ pocket, firmly announcing his need for a quick bathroom visit as he rushes out like he’s possessed.

Sado-kun and Inoue-san occasionally join, even if it’s only for the sake of not letting their powers wither. They still believe that Kurosaki’s powers will return. One way or another…

In the meantime, exterminating Hollows is Uryuu’s mission. There hasn’t been any particularly difficult case in the post-Kurosaki period so far – minor incidents occur every now and then, resulting in a sprained ankle or fingers, but it’s nothing that can’t be written off as “I accidentally slammed the door on my fingers” or “I slipped and fell because of a banana”.

Recently, it has started to feel… hollow. It’s been almost a year, now.

_Nine years, and his power shall return._

Uryuu blinks, but the line stays as the Hollow crumbles into nothingness.

_Nine years…_

*

He digs through his father’s files. There’s not much he can find about the Quincy, as expected. Ryuuken has not been fond of them for as long as Uryuu can remember, going as far as trying to keep Uryuu away from the elderly Ishida, Uryuu’s grandfather and Ryuuken’s own father.

He thinks about breaking into the hospital in passing. Ryuuken pretty much lives there – and there’s even the training area Ryuuken locked them in when he returned Uryuu’s powers.

But that is an insane plan that only the likes of Kurosaki would conduct.

So Uryuu tries to remember the stories his grandfather told him during the time they managed to spend together. He makes notes, disconnected and erroneous ones. He draws charts of the riddles he remembers his grandfather ever uttering to him.

It’s something important… something that will slowly strangle the air out of his lungs if he does not recall it sooner.

The urgency burns in his fingertips, and he goes out more often to search out for Hollows to ease the brittle anxiety.

The feeling of being watches returns, strong enough to distract him and miss a step as the Hollow lunges at him with a loud screech. The arrow hits, but Uryuu slips and twists his ankle.

Distracted by the pain that shoots up his leg, he doesn’t notice the eyes that watch him from the nearby alley.

*

_when will you learn, my son? to regret to repent and to open your forgotten eyes_

*

“What happened to your foot, Ishida-kun?”

Inoue-san frowns, concerned for his well-being. Uryuu appreciates it, but he’s also grateful she doesn’t notice the things he buries under his façade of a busy student.

Something so poisonous like jealousy for her feelings towards Kurosaki has long since left his shoulders.

“Fell down the stairs,” he says, if only because they’re in the classroom waiting for their history teacher. “It happens sometimes.”

He hears Kurosaki snort somewhere behind them.

“Ishida-kun.” Inoue-san makes a face at him, at which he shakes his head dismissively, a slight smile touching his lips.

“It’s fine, Inoue-san. Just a sprained ankle.”

“If you say so.” Inoue-san’s eyes soften, the brown depths reflecting her concern still. “You’re so stubborn.”

“I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t, right?” he chuckles. Mid-chuckle, a cold feeling rushes into him as his eyes shift towards the windows.

The shabby man is back.

*

It takes everything in Uryuu to not react, to not stare at the face of the man from his dreams. No one else notices, no one else feels the massive amount of spirit power that radiates off of the man. Not Inoue-san, not Sado-kun.

Not Arisawa-san or anyone else, either.

Certainly not Kurosaki.

The history class goes by without a scene, though Uryuu feels himself sweating profusely as minutes trickle by slowly like the sand in an hourglass.

The spirit power that he feels is strange, not only in the sheer density and amount, but also in the distinct familiarity that makes Uryuu’s insides quiver.

It’s—the spiritual power belongs to a Quincy.

He raises his hand.

“I need to go to the nurse’s office,” he says, carefully enunciates each word as his heart feels like bursting its veins. He doesn’t wait for the teacher to say anything, he simply stands up and leaves, neck prickling from the stare of the man that stands outside the window in the air.

It’s amazing Inoue-san and Sado-kun haven’t noticed it at all, since it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to hide his presence from Uryuu in the least.

Uryuu makes it to the nurse’s office without giving in to the tremors that quake his bones and shake his mentality, blind him with the disbelief of _there are more of us, there are more of us._

*

The nurse sends him home after taking a look at his deathly pale face and measuring his temperature that has somehow risen above the normal number.

Uryuu follows the advice, picks up his things from the classroom with sudden lethargy and tries not to look at the windows. The spirit power is still strong enough to make the hairs on his arms stand up. He nearly chokes on his tongue when Kurosaki peers at him with vague curiosity. His gaze burns on Uryuu’s skin almost as hot as the unknown Quincy’s.

Uryuu can’t make it out of the school building fast enough.

*

“My name is Yhwach,” Uryuu hears the wind whisper to his ear just before entering his apartment building.

*

It has been a year and a week since Kurosaki lost his powers, and Uryuu has the name and the tingling realization of just _what_ has been keeping an eye on him.

His name is Yhwach, and he is the King the legends (that his grandfather and mentor relayed to him) told of.

Uryuu remembers the song, the poem, whatever it should be called.

_The sealed King of the Quincy, his heart shall beat again in 900 years, intellect returning to him in 90 years afterwards, and 9 years from then, he shall regain his power._

Uryuu wipes his sweating hands to the washcloth he usually cleans plates with, resuming circling around the apartment aimlessly afterwards. Ryuuken isn’t home. What else is new. Uryuu feels nausea re-emerging.

Stories are never meant to come out of their frames.

*

He wakes up feverish, sweat drops running down his skin like he has finished running for his life. The world inside his room dances around in blurry images, even blurrier than usual given that Uryuu can hardly see anything without his glasses in the first place.

Lifting himself up and pushing the covers off his chest, he stands up and wobbles to the kitchen, his head fuzzy with a cotton-light feeling. His steps echo in silence, the word _Yhwach_ audible in the claps of his steps.

There’s medicine on the kitchen table, along with a note.

_don’t even think about going to school today._

Uryuu has never understood his father, and it’s likely that he never will. He doesn’t need to glance around or listen to the silence to know Ryuuken’s already back at the hospital.

He throws the note away with a sigh, _I know without you having to say anything._

He swallows one of the round pills with water before hobbling towards his bedroom again. _Yhwach,_ the room walls around him breathe.

Uryuu closes his eyes, thinks something about privilege and honor as his legs give in and he slides down against the doorframe of his room.

 _What do you want from me?_ he wonders, just one thought among others that go about wandering through his head – there is one that reverberates, strong and insistent.

_Are there more Quincy still---?_

*

_on the inside, you’re still clinging to the day that decided your hatred._

*

When he comes to, he’s still on the floor, leaning against the doorframe. His bones ache, weighing him down from the inside. His fever dreams don’t make any sense to him now as he sweeps hair behind his ears and takes a deep breath that rattles his body.

His grandfather would have been gentle with him during sickness, Uryuu thinks distantly as he makes his way to his bed and lays himself face down. His sheets are cold from his absence, the sweat from the night before already dry.

He thinks about home as he lies there in a pathetic heap of limbs and tousled up hair. _Home_ , for him, was always found in the long summer days spent with grandfather and training alongside him, listening to his tales and explanations with the fascinated attention of a child.

Home is – was – the feeling of the spirit power focused at his fingertips as he learns to pull the bow and shoot the arrows, small and fragile like shards of glass.

It’s the feeling of being important, even when the physical home consists of Ryuuken’s back and distant eyes, followed by harsh words that cut deep and make Uryuu purse his lips and tilt his chin in childish defiance.

He has never understood his father, especially after mother’s untimely demise. That was when Ryuuken had turned into a real-life popsicle in behavior.

 Home had died with grandfather’s passing – and Uryuu’s sobs after he fled the scene when the Shinigami had finally arrived.

 _Yhwach_ , Uryuu muses now, in his fever dreams, _feels a lot like home._

*

His worries ease off a little when he goes back to school, his fever gone and the shaking of his limbs at minimum. His hair looks different, because he has swept the overgrown side behind his ear. He feels different, because there is no pressure inside him that condemns him for not being enough, for not being able to do what he had promised his grandfather.

“Ishida-senpai, Ishida-senpai!” Oh, it’s one of his juniors in student council – a first-year, seeing the way he addresses Uryuu. “I heard you’ve been sick, are you alright?”

Uryuu blinks, looks at this first-year student like he’s the strangest insect he’s seen. “…Yes? I wouldn’t be here otherwise, would I?”

The first-year boy looks awkward, his cheeks puffed out as he holds out a pile of letters. “These came to the council room. For you – confessions, I think.”

The poor boy still looks nervous to even be in Uryuu’s vicinity.

“Obviously not from me!” the boy adds, a flush darkening his freckled face.

“Yes, yes,” Uryuu sighs as he takes the letters, the delicately folded envelopes surprisingly unwrinkled. “Thank you.”

It’s with a quick bow and embarrassment burning on his face that the other dashes off, leaving Uryuu to stare dumbly at the envelopes that really do look like the ones shoujo manga heroines slip to their love interests… only for it to end in a terrible misunderstanding and a clichéd plot twist.

He places them in the front pocket of his messenger bag before he enters the classroom. He’s one of the first people, of course, and it leaves plenty of time for him to take out the books and notes he needs. When that’s done, he hesitates for a moment before he picks one of the letters. He unfolds the envelope and opens it deftly, nimble fingers not once stumbling.

The handwriting is precise, similar to Uryuu’s own. The strokes of kanjis are precise, sharp and in order. Uryuu inhales, twice, before he reads.

 _You feel like home to me, Ishida-san,_ the confession begins.

*

“Aha! I _knew_ those were confession letters you got, Ishida!” Asano talks while swallowing a mouthful of rice, which is why Uryuu’s initial hearing of the words is _ahmfh whofe weve comfesshiooon wettews y’gaht_ , _iwchida._

Uryuu would be disgusted, if he weren’t so adjusted to Kurosaki’s circle of friends already. Instead, he hums as he swallows the rice, chewing the rest properly before replying. “What do you care, Asano? It’s not as if you got any.”

“How rude! Ichigo, did you hear that? ISHIDA JUST—“

“Yeah, yeah, I heard him. He’s right, you know.” Kurosaki sounds and looks annoyed, eyelids half-closed as he gobbles his bentou, brows knitted together as if he’s deep in thought.

“What are you going to do about the confessions?” Arisawa asks, sounding utterly disinterested, but the look in her eyes says, _if you’re going to hurt them, I’ll kick your ass._

He accepts that sentiment as the truth.

Arisawa really would do it.

“I’ll let them down gently, I suppose,” Uryuu says, idly moving his chopsticks about in the bentou box. “I have no room for that kind of relationship in my life.”

He glances at Inoue-san, just for a moment. She’s smiling. Her hair’s grown longer since Aizen Sousuke took her to Hueco Mundo.

He’s glad she’s alright even after those traumatic events. What a tough girl she is.

He can’t say the same about himself.

“Uh-huh,” Kurosaki grunts. “Ishida with a love life is like a cactus up Keigo’s ass. Unnatural and painful.”

“What the hell, Kurosaki—“

“ICHIGO!”

Kurosaki, too, seems to be doing just fine.

Uryuu’s really, really glad.

*

9 centuries, 9 decades, 9 years.

The riddle rings through his mind in endless cycles as he leaps and shoots another few Hollows. His spirit power has grown in the past year, or rather his ability at handling it. It manifests in a brilliant blue bow and shining arrows that shatter with the Hollow’s life.

The Sealed King of the Quincy…

Uryuu inhales. Another arrow leaves his bow, straight towards the designated target.

He’s not like Kurosaki, who adamantly insists on handling things himself. (…-ed. _–insisted._ ) But he’s not that selfish as to push his own inane worries onto Inoue-san and Sado-kun.

This is a personal issue – not quite a problem, not when there’s something like hope for a home.

It’s the feeling that Yhwach wants to exploit in him.

Uryuu closes his eyes, lets his spirit power to wither away from the visible world.

“You are here, are you not?” he asks into the air. “Your Majesty, you’re rather indirect in your approach.”

The wind picks up, and ruffles at his capes as the clouds shift over the moon. The golden-yellow light turns grayer, pale and mellow in its shade.

Uryuu smiles, all bite and no bark.

He wishes he could sleep these days away, wishes he could sleep this _life_ —

 _No._ That is a thought best not allowed room for. Uryuu readjusts his glasses and hops down the fire escape. He doesn’t mind if the sleepy homeless people see him; a figure in pure white with blue sparks of spirit power dancing around him is easy to pass off as a dream-induced mirage.

Whether Uryuu feels the warm touch of someone’s hand on his shoulder, well… _that_ cannot be passed off as a mere illusion.

*

_welcome to my kingdom of ailing loneliness_

*

One year and three months – 15 months altogether, and the winter howls its freezing message through Karakura Town.

Uryuu _hates_ winter. Snow, he can live with. The cold? Not so much.

“You’re still as pathetic as ever when the cold comes, huh,” Kurosaki comments lazily one day when he and Uryuu, as well as Inoue-san and Sado-kun, go out for some burgers. Uryuu hasn’t taken his mittens off even in the warmth of the burger joint, rubbing his hands together to regain the feeling in his fingers.

“Oh, shut up,” Uryuu hisses as he warms up enough to take off the mittens. “I have a bad circulation.”

“Sure,” Kurosaki smirks, lips stretching in a way that makes him look almost contented. “Makes sense, I guess. Why don’t you knit yourself some winter clothes?”

“It’s _sewing_ , and it’s _totally different—_ “

“Kurosaki-kun, it’s so very different!” Inoue-san butts in from Uryuu’s side, her hair moving with her as she leans over the table. “You were at the competition with us, weren’t you? You saw it, too, the amazingness of Ishida-kun—“

“Geesh, I was just tryin’ to rile Ishida up, Inoue, I _know_ the difference—“

“Kurosaki-kun, don’t be _mean_.”

With a warm latter between his hands and friends around him to make his heart flutter in celebration, Uryuu couldn’t have been happier. Sado-kun’s steady presence, Inoue-san’s cheer, and Kurosaki’s obstinate nature all calmed him in ways nothing else could.

Uryuu’s lips tilt up against his conscious decision to not smile.

*

He remembers his mother’s collapse. It happened in the same year as grandfather’s incident. It had been very upsetting time for the Ishida family, though Uryuu has his suspicion that Ryuuken was only ever upset by one of them.

Around that time, Ryuuken’s cold shoulder turned into temperature matching the absolute zero.

Even now, Uryuu burns incense for his mother at the small altar located in the small corner in the living room almost weekly. Sometimes he forgets; other weeks he hasn’t got the time.

It’s a Sunday in early spring when he burns the last bits of incense in the house at the small shrine honoring her memory. Hands clasped together, head bowed low, Uryuu hopes she can give him her blessings for whatever the future will bring.

“Thank you,” he says in a whisper, “for everything up till now, mother.”

Time is ticking by, slowly but surely, and he has to make a choice.

*

16 months, and Uryuu doesn’t close his eyes to Yhwach’s presence.

*

17 months, and Uryuu finishes making his decision around the time the strange presence attached to Kurosaki first disappears. (Something like spirit power, but not quite as obvious.)

Around that time, Uryuu thinks it would be nice if Kurosaki never regains his powers – how nice it would be to leave without causing irreparable damage on his friendships with Kurosaki and the group. All their quarreling aside, Kurosaki Ichigo is someone Uryuu does not wish to bring to harm’s way if he can help it.

So far, he has been incredibly _useless_ when it comes to saving people.

The routine of normalcy helps him to hide his contemplations from Kurosaki and others. They’re not as close as they used to be, anyhow; everyone has some sort of thing going on for them. Uryuu has his presidency in both student council and the sewing club; Kurosaki has his part-time job and the clubs he rents his services to; Inoue-san is working too; and Sado-kun is a mystery, but he does what he has to do behind the scenes, behind the light of the day.

Just like Uryuu.

Then the Fullbrings come, fast and hard like a lightning bolt from the sky – and then Uryuu’s in the hospital, in _Ryuuken’s_ hospital, and his mouth tastes like bitter ignorance as he avoids directly replying anyone’s questions. Ryuuken still gets a rise out of him.

The anger stays, burns between his ribs as he focuses on breathing and ignoring the radiating pain in his sides and stomach.

But Kurosaki – he sounded different, even if his main concern _was_ Uryuu. Even without having seen his face, Uryuu knew and knows the type just from listening to Kurosaki’s shaky, concerned voice.

That moron, thinking he could do anything…

In the end, Kurosaki does what he does and saves the day with his returned powers from the Shinigami captains and lieutenants. Uryuu watches on with wide eyes and a sinking feeling somewhere in his hear.

_So, it will come down to this…_

There’s not much time for him left with them.

Uryuu doesn’t have a goodbye prepared, yet.

*

_what can’t be erased:_

_time_

_&_

_bonds_

*

Things escalate quickly afterwards. The Arrancar Ivan from Yhwach’s army drops by on them in Kurosaki’s bedroom, and that’s how it starts.

Inoue-san says the words that hurt him the most later: “Ishida-kun, I was just thinking that you really became friends with Kurosaki-kun. And I really like that side of you.”

Uryuu is both surprised and troubled. The initial reaction gets the best of him: a flush spreads over his face as he frantically adjusts his glasses. “If you’re going to make fun of me, do it in a way that I can understand, Inoue-san!”

She laughs like today is not the last time they can do that together.

*

He spends the majority of that night in front of the altar dedicated to his mother. Ryuuken’s not at home, even though Uryuu thinks he knows.

He supposes he can’t expect that father of his to stop him.

Some part of him wants to be stopped.

An apology never leaves his lips to his mother picture. It’s not the decision he regrets – only the consequences of it.

*

Kurosaki calls his landline pretty late, past Uryuu’s normal self-set bedtime. Uryuu answers it, worry twisting his stomach in knots. A half-hearted thought – _he knows_ – makes its way through his mind before it dies in the clutches of stone-cold logic: Kurosaki has no idea yet. He couldn’t have, even despite being a half-blood.

“Can you come over soon?” Kurosaki sounds grim even over the distortion of a phone call.

“If you wanted to have a sleepover, you should have said so sooner,” Uryuu snaps, mustering just the right amount of irritation to sound like himself. The weight in his heart turns into lead.

“Don’t be an idiot, it’s an emergency, obviously,” Kurosaki huffs, irritated by Uryuu’ irritability. “I wouldn’t call you for such a stupid thing at this time.”

“…I thought as much,” Uryuu sighs, pressing a finger up the bridge of his nose as his face contorts into a troubled frown. “I will be there soon.”

“Thanks,” Kurosaki says curtly before hanging up.

Kurosaki, he… sounded antsy.

Uryuu clutches the phone receiver to his chest. The words _I’m sorry_ never leave his lips, but they’re damn near to slip past the cage of his mouth.

*

 The meeting in Kurosaki’s room is indeed for the sake of what’s happening in Hueco Mundo. Uryuu tries not to grimace, as he knows the reason behind all this.

He’s part of it.

He wishes Kurosaki wouldn’t bother.

But when has Kurosaki ever acted accordingly to Uryuu’s wishes?

Uryuu listens to Nell and her companion’s account of what happened in Hueco Mundo with a detached silence that no one pays mind to as it is characteristic of him.

Kurosaki’s face furrows, but he keeps his composure throughout Persche’s little talk. Sado-kun and Inoue-san both look like they have already made up their minds, as well.

Uryuu can’t afford to lose his focus, either.

“We’re going to help them, right?” Sado-kun asks, his voice deep and rough. The questions seems to reverberate through the room, or maybe it’s Uryuu’s guilty conscience that it tries to shatter.

“…Sorry,” Uryuu intervenes, soft yet firm, his hands reflexively curling into fists, “I can’t join you guys this time.”

He can’t bring himself to look at any of them directly, his neck burning with the guilty conscience. He’s going to need to get rid of that, too. This is the only time – the very last chance – for him to allow this feeling spread and pulse through his being.

After this, there is no time for guilt. There will only be _duty_.

Uryuu inhales, and then exhales. Then inhales again when Kurosaki’s head turns towards him, something like an understanding glimmering in his eyes.

“Yeah… The Quincy exist to destroy Hollows,” he says, mouth quirking up in a small smile that makes Uryuu’s frown deepen and his fists clench harder.

He wants to say things like _I’m sorry_ and other sentimental crap that Kurosaki would shoot down for the sake of yelling at him for his idiocy and reasoning.

“At least,” Kurosaki’s smile widens and Uryuu flinches the following words startle him, “that’s what I figured you’d say… but if I didn’t say anything, you’d get pissy later.”

“Hey, you—“ Uryuu’s mouth twitches, and the feeling of mortifying remorse is gone.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be _all right_ without you,” Kurosaki continues, mouth quirking up in attempt to provoke him further. _This asshole._

Before they could go for another round of useless bickering, though, Urahara-san comes by, jumps straight in from Kurosaki’s window, which results in a mild, very premature heart attack for Uryuu. (Lies, it only skipped a beat or two.)

Uryuu has planned to leave without saying a word, but now that the fateful hour is at hand, he finds that he cannot. So he stops at Kurosaki’s door, hand on the knob. “Hey, Kurosaki.”

They’re almost out the window by then, but Kurosaki does turn to glance at him. “What?”

“Remember that you have a home to come back to,” Uryuu says, turning to look at Kurosaki. He can only hope he has managed to school his expression into something neutral. “Don’t you forget it.”

Kurosaki looks at him in confusion, eyes questioning Uryuu’s words before they ease into something gentler. “You worry about me, Ishida?”

…Okay, not gentler… rather,  more  _irritating_.

“Don’t, I already know that without you having to say a word about it,” Kurosaki continues, shoots his fingers up in a farewell. “Say goodnight to Yuzu and Karin for me, if they’re still up.”

 _What an idiot._ Uryuu turns away when they have gone, turns off the lights with a heavy heart. _I’m saying that you should stay here, where you’re safe for the time being._

_Where I won’t have to face you._

The lights go off, and Uryuu closes the door behind him with an audible _click_.

*

After a couple of days of pretended normality and embracing the silence that comes in Kurosaki and co's absence, he dresses himself in the attire befitting of Yhwach’s army. The shoulders of the uniform squeeze a bit harshly at his skin, but he figures that to be fine. The white represents new beginnings, a new state of being, and so Uryuu tells him that he’s done feeling sorry for himself for his choice.

He chose.

Surely, Inoue-san and others can’t forgive him for that.

(They will, he knows. After beating him up – or trying to.)

He knows they will ask him _why_ – and he already has an answer that feels alright on his tongue.

 _Because I am a Quincy_ , he thinks and smiles to himself. There’s nothing petty like revenge involved, nothing as shady as being a spy.

There’s only a simple desire to have others like him around, to find that feeling of being at home again.

Uryuu laughs, almost.

_How childish._

*

It’s far from childish games, this war. Uryuu knows it. The other Quincy know it.

Kurosaki’s face when he sees Uryuu up there beside Yhwach—

 _Does **he** know that,_ Uryuu wonders, the thought soft and fond despite the harshness of its context.

“Go home, Kurosaki,” he says, not answering the desperation that claws its way out of Kurosaki’s throat. “Just… go home.”

There’s nothing else he can say, nothing else he _will_ say as he turns to follow His Majesty and Haschwalt.

“Have you said your farewells, Uryuu?”

“Yes.”

“This is the last chance you’ll ever get.”

“I am aware,” Uryuu says, pushes his glasses up as his bow fades from the visible world. “I have nothing more to say.”

He doesn’t need to look to see the face Inoue-san is wearing. It’s undoubtedly similar to Kurosaki’s, perhaps a little more despairing, perhaps a little more compassionate as she thinks he has been coerced into this.

She’s wrong.

Sado-kun, well. He’s harder to read, but he sounds just as shocked, just as stunned as the other two.

Uryuu can’t ask for something that he doesn’t deserve.

(And that is forgiveness.)


End file.
